


Stand in the Rain

by searchingwardrobes



Series: Fandom Birthday Playlist [31]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 3B Arc, Angst, Deleted Scenes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Was this the only way she could let herself feel? To let her tears mingle with the rain so no one saw? An emotional hurt/comfort fic taking place sometime after the episode The Jolly Roger.





	Stand in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bransch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bransch/gifts).

> *I have always had the head canon that Emma and Killian hung out a lot in between the moments of crisis in 3B. Though we didn't get a lot on screen, it felt like these two grew to be best friends during that time. This is a deleted scene showing that, along with some angst due to Killian's cursed lips and Emma's walls with a dash of sexual tension. I hope you like it, Brandy!  
* Based on the song by Superchic[k]. Yes, as in "One Girl Revolution." They are my guilty pleasure, okay? Plus, there's more to the group than poppy girl power songs. This is a ballad written about the lead singer's battle with an eating disorder, and it is surprisingly deep. Plus, I will always and forever blast the entire album Karaoke Superstar (yes, I know all the words to every song) because it makes me feel like I can conquer the world. Cadet Kelly and Elle Woods knew a thing or two.

_ She never slows down. She doesn't know why, but she knows that when she's all alone, feels like it’s all coming down. She won't turn around. The shadows are long and she fears if she cries that first tear, the tears will not stop raining down.  _

Killian Jones could always feel rain coming, deep in his bones, so he wasn’t surprised when the squall descended on Storybrooke, drenching the town in a downpour of frigid winter rain. His room at Granny’s was a much cozier haven from the storm than what he had been used to on The Jolly Roger, and for a rare moment he was thankful he was here in the inn instead of Storybrooke harbor. 

Though his room was warm and full of creature comforts, he wasn’t able to relax. Not when the Wicked Witch was attempting to use him as her pawn, not when even being in Emma Swan’s presence was the worst kind of torture. Not that he would kiss her anyway if she didn’t seem responsive, it’s just . . . Was he imagining things, or did she seem responsive lately? Of course she’d begun to thaw towards him just when his bloody lips had been cursed. Had his life ever been anything but constant struggle? 

Killian dropped his fisted hand to the wall with a thud, his jaw clenching. He wouldn’t kiss her, no matter how he was tempted. Even if she flung herself into his arms -

He groaned at the thought. Maybe he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was. Which was precisely why he’d distanced himself from her, though it killed him to do so. As he pressed his forehead to the cool glass of his second floor window, he startled at what he saw. Emma herself was standing, body rigid, face tipped up to the pouring rain in the middle of the street in front of Granny’s. He glanced at the clock, his forehead creasing with even more concern when he saw that it was past two in the morning. 

He dashed out of his room and bounded down the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding. Was she under a spell of some kind? Was the Wicked Witch nearby to pounce on Emma when she was most vulnerable?

He skidded to a stop in the street a few feet away from Emma. He was arrested by the look in her eyes as she pierced him with her gaze. Her face illuminated by the streetlight, he saw nothing but clarity in the green of her eyes. Nevertheless, he approached her cautiously, the rain beating down in sheets, soaking his shirt and blurring his vision. He was thankful he’d discarded his coat earlier. 

“Emma? Are you okay?”

She nodded, then closed her eyes before tilting her head again to bathe her face with the rain. As Killian drew closer, he noticed the lines creasing the corners of her mouth, and the anxiety lining her brow. He squinted.

“You’re crying.”

“No I’m not.”

He searched her face intently. The moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes wasn’t rain. “Yes you are.”

She hung her head, and rain dripped off her water-logged hair, trailing rivulets of water over her winter coat. He almost didn’t hear her over the roar of the pouring rain. “Maybe I am.”

Was this the only way she could let herself feel? To let her tears mingle with the rain so no one saw? He understood, of course, so he said nothing. He drew closer, his elbow brushing hers. 

“I’m not who everyone thinks I am,” she told him, her head still down. “I’m not like the rest of you. I grew up here. I’m no character in a story.”

“You’re right,” he replied softly, and she lifted her startled gaze to his. A strand of her hair was plastered to her cheek, and he reached out and gently brushed it aside. “You’re not a character, you’re not simply a pawn in this battle, you’re . . . Emma.” 

Killian shrugged, frustrated that his words for once were failing him, but she rewarded him with a tiny smile all the same. Her gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips, and he felt himself sway imperceptibly towards her. When he realized the movement, he quickly stepped away from her. Though his eyelashes were weighted with the rain, he saw the flicker of rejection in her eyes. 

“We have to get you inside, Swan,” he said quickly, “you’ll catch your death of cold out here.”

She shook her head, bloody stubborn woman. “I don’t want to wake Henry.”

“Then come to my room.”

She openly scowled at him then, her lips pressed in a disapproving line. 

“I swear to you, Swan, I will be a perfect gentleman.”  _ If only she knew the half of it.  _

A shiver ran through her body, and her lips trembled. “I guess so.”

He gave her a wide berth as they headed back inside, reminding himself in a thousand different ways what an idiot he was. Apparently he enjoyed inflicting torture on himself. 

_ She won't make a sound. Alone in this fight with herself and the fears whispering if she stands she'll fall down. She wants to be found. The only way out is through everything she's running from. _

_ She wants to give up and lie down. _

The two of them were dripping puddles of water onto the floor of his room, and Emma was shaking so badly it frightened him. His own words shook as they came out. 

“You’ve got to get out of those clothes, Swan.”

“I - I kn-knew y-you would try to g-get me n-naked.”

The smile she gave him infused her words with levity, and he couldn’t help chuckling in response. He crossed the room, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved one of his black shirts. He turned and handed it to her, gesturing to the bathroom with his hook. 

“Take a warm bath, or . . . what’s it called again?”

“A shower, old man.” 

He shook his head and gave another short laugh. “Aye, a shower. Then you can change into that. I apologize I don’t have anything else. You sure you don’t want to go to your own chambers?”

“Room, Killian, we call it a room. And no, I don’t want to wake Henry, I told you.”

She shuffled to his bathroom, and Killian held his tongue from reminding her that she had an entire suite with Henry. Chances of waking the lad were slim, as they had all discovered during their many chats with her parents in the sitting room. Could it be that Emma wanted his company? If that were the case, he’d give it. Even if it was painful. 

He heard the shower running as he peeled off his own soaked clothing. He was down to one shirt and one pair of breeches now that he’d drenched himself and offered his clothing to Emma. Perhaps it was time he invested in some of this realm’s clothing. The Merry Men had been raving about something called jeans. 

Emma was quick in the shower, a trait of hers that didn’t surprise him in the least. She came out in his shirt, an uncharacteristic blush to her cheeks as she attempted to tug it further down her thighs. His breath caught in his lungs and his mouth went dry at the sight of her. What the bloody hell had he been thinking? She looked like they’d just been -

“Do you sleep in leather too?”

He blinked and shook his head to clear it at Emma’s words. “Umm . . . pardon?”

She chuckled knowingly, gazing at him teasingly beneath her lashes. “I mean, you don’t have pajamas? You know, clothes just for sleeping?”

He couldn’t pass up the open invitation. He grinned with an arch of his brow. “I sleep in the nude, Swan.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile upon her face appled her cheeks and deepened her blush. She grabbed the thick blanket rolled up on the end of his bed and wrapped it around herself. When he noticed her still shivering, he rushed to the fireplace in the sitting area of his room and retrieved the gray rock from the mantel and began striking his hook against it. He lifted his gaze in surprise when Emma began to laugh.

“Are you seriously trying to strike your hook on a rock to start a fire?”

“It’s called a flint, Swan, and how do you suggest I light it? With that ridiculous modern device that Bae -” he stopped, his voice trailing off. He looked apologetically into Emma’s eyes, but all she did was give him a soft, understanding smile.

“Here,” she said, that same smug grin upon her face that she’d had when practicing her magic in the diner, “let me.”

Emma pulled one arm free from the blanket and knelt before the fire. Instead of conjuring a fireball as Regina would have, she simply held her hand up to the wood in the fireplace, wriggling her fingers a little. Warmth radiated from her palm, sparking a gentle flame that flicked across the wood. He grinned down at her triumphantly.

“Your magic is different from Regina’s.”

“You mean it doesn’t come as easy,” Emma grumbled slightly as she leaned back against the winged back chair next to the fire. 

“No,” Killian clarified as he settled down on the hearth across from her, “it’s more elegant.”

“Elegant,” Emma mused, gazing into the flames, “that’s not a word I would use to describe myself.”

“Well you should.”

Emma pulled her knees up, cocooning herself in the blanket. She tilted her head as she scrutinized him. “What’s been with you lately?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do,” Emma laughed, “super power remember?”

Killian arched both brows at her. 

“Besides,” she continued, “for a pirate, you have some pretty big tells. This,” she teased, scratching behind her ear, “and that jaw clench thing you do.”

Killian hastily dropped his hand from his ear. “I don’t have tells.”

Emma rolled her eyes again. “Okay, pirate, keep telling yourself that.”

“Why were you standing out in the rain?”

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I asked you first.”

Emma sighed. “Fine. I didn’t want . . . “ she fidgeted nervously, “I just felt myself about to snap, you know, and I just had to get out.”

Killian nodded. “I’ve shared tight quarters with way too many sailors most of my life. Believe me, love, I understand.”

“I hate lying to Henry,” she continued, picking at a loose thread on the blanket so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “I’m pretty much the world’s worst mother.”

“That lad of yours is quite the young man, Swan. Don’t tell me you had nothing to do with that.”

“Did I though?’ she asked, eyes flashing. “It was all fake.”

“Not the last year.”

She blinked, her mouth opening slightly, then closing again. “I . . . guess.”

They fell silent, gazing at the flickering flames. 

“Are you really pissed at me about messing with your hook?”

Killian’s gaze flew to hers in surprise. “Bloody hell, love, of course not.”

“What is it then?” She lowered her gaze again, biting at her lip. “I’ve missed you.”

Killian slid across the floor until he was next to her. He arched his eyebrows and swiped his tongue across his lower lip. “Really?”

Emma laughed and shoved him in the shoulder. “Calm down, I don’t mean it like that.” She rested her chin on her blanket-covered knees. “You’ve become . . . a good friend. Probably my best friend at this point.”

His gaze softened. “Aye, Swan, I feel the same.”

“What?” she teased, poking him in the shoulder. “Are you saying I’m better than Smee?”

“Well,” he teased back, “I’m not promoting you to first mate  _ yet,  _ but you are a lot easier on the eyes.”

Emma’s smile was bright, and her eyes sparkled. She was staring at his lips again. Killian cleared his throat and rose swiftly, pretending to stoke the fire, 

“Killian,” Emma said softly. He looked down to see her face tilted up at him, the firelight illuminating her still damp hair. She looked so much like an angel, his chest ached. 

“Yes, Emma?”

“I’m serious you know. You . . .  _ get me _ . There’s a lot of stuff my parents can’t understand, you know?”

He nodded. “I know.”

Emma didn’t stare at his lips again, but she did fall asleep on his shoulder by the fire. Her bare legs were pressed against his leather pants because she’d insisted on sharing the blanket. It was torture, no doubt about it, but there were some crosses he was willing to bear. 

He awakened her reluctantly at dawn so she could slip back into the room she shared with Henry. He almost brushed a kiss to her brow, but stopped himself just in time. The sleepy smile she gave him as she shuffled out the door made something swoop low in his belly. Yes, he would endure this torture. 

That’s what best friends do. 

_ So stand in the rain _

_ Stand your ground _

_ Stand up when it's all crashing down _

_ You stand through the pain _

_ You won't drown _

_ And one day, what’s lost can be found _

_ You stand in the rain _


End file.
